"You mean like you?" He snorts, fiddling with the lock on the door. Must be locked for a reason- even if a place like this was abandoned, most of the doors had been busted open. Which means whatever is inside? Has got to be worth it.

"Listen, I don't need your advice." Anymore. "You and I ain't exactly on the same side." Anymore.

Regret. Survivor's guilt. It's all there, dammed up, buried under years of wandering and travelling through the world racking up a bounty on his head. He doesn't say another word as he fiddles with the lock, smirking to himself when he hears that satisfying click.

"Been real nice talking to you, 'Reaper'." He says it in a way that makes it obvious that he's lying before opening the door and heading inside, followed by wisps of shadow and smoke.